


Life, Love, and Crime

by BishoujoMichiko



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Mob, Badass Katsuki Yuuri, I suck at tagging, M/M, Mafia AU, Russian Mafia, Slow Burn, Victor is Vi(k)tor forever sorry, badass Minami Kenjirou, badass everyone tbh, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BishoujoMichiko/pseuds/BishoujoMichiko
Summary: YOI Mafia AU. I suck at summaries, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is one big ol' free write, so I have no idea where this story's headed.  
> This & two other chapters are posted on my Tumblr:[Click Here.](http://bishoujomichiko.tumblr.com/post/155565627906/my-yoi-mafia-au)  
> Hope you enjoy!

How long had it been? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes? Yuuri took a long draw on his Cuban cigar, let it settle on his tongue, then exhaled.  
The thunking sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the spacious office.  
A scream, a plead, and then more flesh being beaten in. Yuuri took another inhale of smoke.  
He really didn’t like to go about things this way, in fact he hated it.  
It was troublesome and tiring.  
Just kill them and be done with it, it would save so much time.  
But his right hand man Viktor was so damn extravagant. He absolutely loved to show off his physical skills.  
Yuuri watched the silver haired man laying into the accused; jab, upper cut, a kick in the ribs, a step on the knee. Another long, loud scream.  
Yuuri sighed.  
“Enough.” Viktor was still going, though. Did he not hear his boss?  
“I said _enough_.” It was very dangerous for Yuuri to have to repeat himself. If you lived to hear the repetition, you were very lucky indeed.  
But of course, Viktor Nikiforov was no ordinary man to Yuuri. Not at all. 

  
Viktor immediately stopped and grabbed a prepared towel off the desk, calmly wiping the blood off his hands.  
“Damn it, this is a new suit, too! It was so expensive.” He whined, trying to wipe the blood off his cuff links.  
“But, it was worth it. I’ve wanted to beat the shit out of Mr. Jacques for quite some time.” He winked at Yuuri, who was snuffing out his cigar.  
“Jean, I don’t have much more patience. And I’m only going to ask this once. _Where is my money?_ ”  
Yuuri cocked his head to the side, surveying the extensive damage Viktor had done.  
The man laid sprawled out on the floor, but slowly managed to sit up on his elbows. His face was a bloodied mess, quickly purpling all over.  
Jean Jacques, otherwise known as JJ. Twenty six years old, ran the largest gang in Canada. He co-owned a surplus of prostitution rings with the Swedish black market overseer, Christophe Giacometti.  
These clubs were spread out over his native country, Sweden and America, too. He named his strip clubs _“JJ Girls”_. Befitting of the man’s cockiness. He was very loud and obnoxious, boisterous, and tended to overstep his boundaries. But, atleast twenty percent of the clubs he owned himself were funded by a loan from Yuuri. And unfortunately for JJ, he had overstepped.  
“Fucking bitch…” JJ spat out blood on the floor. Viktor went striding back over.  
The beaten man threw his hands up. “Don’t worry. I have your fucking money.” He tried to stand, favoring his left leg. “You really had to go all out, eh?”  
“I’ll transfer the money over today. As soon as I get out of here.”  
“And who says we’re going to let you out of here?” Viktor asked nonchalantly.  
_“Enough.”_ Yuuri tapped his index finger on the desk. Viktor knew he used up his last time to speak out of turn.  
“You will be accompanied by one of my men to your bank of choice, just to make sure everything goes as planned. Please be on time with your payments in the future. The next missed payment will have a very _heavy_ late fee.  
You are dismissed.” Yuuri relit his cigar, leaning back into his large leather chair. He really had to stop smoking those things.  
JJ smirked and began walking towards the door. “I definitely don’t want to pay _that_ kind of a late fee. See ya.” He waved, as he was escorted out of the room.  
Yuuri sighed heavily.  
“The other organizations are getting way too comfortable, these days.”  
There was no response from Viktor, who stood on his right, with his arms crossed.  
Yuuri sent the remaining guards out of the room.  
“How many times do I have to tell you not to over talk me, Viktor? It’s getting annoying.” Yuuri, again, put out his cigar.  
Viktor shrugged and turned to him, leaning on Yuuri’s desk.  
“Sorry, moya lyubov. I can’t help it. I get overly excited sometimes, you know that.” Viktor caressed Yuuri’s lips with his thumb,  
Yuuri smacked his hand away.  
“Please don’t think too much of yourself Viktor. _I_ am leader the Russian Mafia.” Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s tie, pulling him down for a deep, tongue-filled kiss.  
“Make sure you don’t forget that.”  
Viktor got on one knee, and grabbed Yuuri’s right hand. He kissed the matching gold ring that glinted in the window light.  
“Yes, sir.” Viktor interlaced Yuuri’s fingers with his.  
As Viktor and Yuuri were getting prepared to take a _long_ break, there was a knock on the door. Shortly followed by loud cursing and the door being swung open.  
Yuuri groaned.  
The slender, blonde young man came stomping in, his face flushed in anger.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to _interrupt!_ ” He threw a stack of papers on the desk.  
_“Is this a fucking joke?”_  
Yuri Plisetsky. 23. Known as the “Russian Ice Tiger”. He was a ferocious little beast, with a temper that even exceeded that. The mafia’s top ranking assassin; he could shoot a target dead from eight hundred feet with his eyes closed. Sounds exaggerated, but Yuuri’s seen him do it. He also was only second to Viktor in hand to hand combat. And he was the third closest person to Yuuri.  
“Plisetsky. I am really not in the mood.” Yuuri began to rub his temples. What he _had_ been in the mood for was some personal time with his lover, and of course the kid had to come in and ruin it.  
“Oh, I’m so sorry, _sir_. Please forgive me for wanting to know why the _fuck_ you decided to have me work on the mission with that pussy?”  
He was referring to Minami Kenjirou. Who was a senior to Yuri by two years. Minami was a go-between, a person who sealed deals with opposing gangs. He was energetic and jovial, a rarity in the business they are were in, also looked at as weak. But he actually doubled as an interrogator for the mafia, a secret of which only Yuuri knew. Those who were questioned by Minami did not keep a tight lip for long. He was _overly_ skilled in torture; Yuuri had sat in to oversee one of his interrogations, and Yuuri decided that was the last time he would ever attend one again. The longest record of anyone that lasted was five minutes, and Minami had interrogated a countless number of people.  
“I can do this fucking mission alone, goddamnit! I’m not bringing that little annoying shit with me-”  
“Plisetsky. _I’m tired._ ”  
Silence. Yuri grit his teeth, but knew better than to continue his rant.  
“Minami is going with you because of that terrible mouth you have. He’s a good talker, and knows how to persuade people. Talk to people. Qualities that you _severely_ lack. The both of you together will make a good team. I need you to get that informant as soon as possible.  
Please don’t disappoint me.”  
Yuri was already stomping out of the room, hands balled in fists.  
Yuuri exhaled, he really hoped Plisetsky wouldn’t do anything irrational. He was prone to doing terrible things when he was in one of his rages.  
“Okay. Lock that damn door, Vitya. I don’t want anyone else coming in here.”  
Viktor chuckled. “You got it, boss.”

  
Yuuri had his head nestled in Viktor’s neck, inhaling deeply. When he was with Viktor, all other intrusive thoughts failed to plague him. It was just the two of them in the entire universe; nothing else mattered.  
He remembered when he first met Viktor. Yuuri had been recruited by the Mafia and became a drug runner. He was initiated in to the gang with a severe beating; he was sure it was so bad because he was a foreigner. Not too many of the members agreed with his joining, but Yakov had quickly silenced the doubters.  
After he had been beaten almost half to death, Viktor came and helped him. He patched his wounds, with gentle yet strong hands. Yuuri thought that was probably the moment he had fallen for him.  
“They went too far, those bastards. I hate to see such a pretty face ruined like this.” He ran the back of his finger down Yuuri’s cheek.  
“I’m Viktor Nikiforov. The successor to the Russian Mafia.”  
Yes, the _successor_. How _Yuuri_ became the leader of the Mafia, is a story to tell some other time.  
Viktor held out the hand that had touched Yuuri’s face, Yuuri shook it. He was extremely surprised Viktor was speaking to him, had actually cared for his wounds like that. He heard stories surrounding the man, he was known as “Faceless”. They would say he always wore a smile on his face, and no one could ever tell when he was angry. Until it was too late, of course.  
“…K-Katsuki Yuuri. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”  
Viktor’s smile widened. “Oh, what beautiful manners! I like you already.” He winked. Viktor grabbed one of Yuuri’s arms, and shouldered his weight to stand.  
“Let’s get you something to eat.” 

  
Yuuri was taken out of his reverie by Viktor brushing his hair to the back of his ear.  
“How much longer do we have to play mobster, Yuuri?” Viktor pouted, pulling him in closer into his embrace.  
They had this conversation at least twice a day, and it seemed to be increasing. “Vitya…can we just be quiet and hold each other for awhile? I don’t feel like arguing.”  
Viktor huffed “But I’m getting bored of all this. Why can’t we go hide out on an island, forever? Just you and me and palm trees? I know all of this is taking a toll on you-”  
“Viktor, please.”  
The man continued. “I know you’re getting tired of this, too. Let’s leave this all behind.” Viktor put his forehead to Yuuri’s. There still were no words from the dark haired man. Viktor pulled back.  
“Are you really going to choose this life over everything that we have? Over real love and happiness? Over me?” Yuuri did not respond, which made Viktor grab his chin and turn up his face, forcing Yuuri to look at him.  
_“Yuuri?”_ The hurt and anger was beginning to creep into Viktor’s eyes. This was a question Yuuri had been waiting to come up.  
Though, he wished it never would.  
Yuuri had joined the Mafia to make some quick cash, originally.  
His family lived in a one bedroom apartment back in Japan. So when Yuuri got scouted by the Mafia, he was offered what they presented all newbies. Money, protection, power. Three things Yuuri craved, though at that time money was all he truly wanted.  
With the pay he’d get, he would be able to support his family. Move them out of the Hasetsu slums, give his mother and father the Onsen they’d been dreaming of owning ever since he could remember. Maybe he and his sister Mari could attend college. He had planned on getting rich quick, and then finding a way to escape the organization.  
But one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew, he was addicted. Every day he fell deeper and deeper into the darkness. Each day a piece of his old self, the little chubby boy that ran around alleyways playing tag with his best friends Yuuko and Nishigori, disappeared. Once he was able to provide for his family, money became an after thought.  
He wanted _power_. He wanted underlings. He wanted his reach to spread across every damn country on the earth. It consumed him.  
By the time his relationship with Viktor had really began to flourish, it was already too late. Yuuri had long since succumbed to the allure of the dark path. The only small decimal of light that he allowed within himself was his family, and the man he was lying next to.  
Viktor took Yuuri’s unresponsiveness as his answer. He unwrapped his arms from around him, and got off the couch. He began putting back on his suit, which was now wrinkled from being strewn across the floor.  
“Vitya…I’m sorry.”  
Viktor turned around, adjusting his button down, tucking it into his pants.  
He smiled. This wasn’t Viktor anymore, it was Faceless.  
“I understand.”  
Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s wrist, but it was jerked out of his grip.  
“Is there anything else you require of me, Mr. Katsuki?”  
It was a cold question, one that pulled at Yuuri’s chest. When Viktor became like this, Yuuri had long ago realized it was best to leave him alone for a little while. There was no breaching the wall that Viktor built when he did not want any interaction.  
“No. You may leave.”  
With that, Viktor pulled on his blazer and stalked out of the room. 

  
_One day, if this darkness ever releases me, and if we’re both still alive;  
I would love to run away with you._


End file.
